


The Perfect Gift

by Auriana Valoria (AuriV1)



Series: The Lady Herald and Her Lion [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Birthday Presents, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Implied Nudity, Reunions, Wicked Grace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 01:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11369334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriV1/pseuds/Auriana%20Valoria
Summary: The Inquisitor's birthday is soon, and her Inner Circle attempts to come up with an appropriate gift for her. What they ultimately pull off is something she never would have imagined.Pun intended.





	The Perfect Gift

“So,” Josephine started, glancing between all those present at the war table, “There’s something else I wanted to discuss with you all while we are here.”

For the past hour, she, Cullen, Leliana, and Cassandra had all been poring over the reports and diplomatic correspondence they had received in the past few days. The Inquisitor herself was miles away from Skyhold, in the Exalted Plains along with Blackwall, Cole, and Vivienne, attempting to bring order in the midst of the chaos of the dying Orlesian civil war. While Verana-Kathryn was gone, Josephine had made a revelation that prompted her to formulate a plan and, hopefully, set it into motion before the Inquisitor returned to Skyhold.

“What is it, Josie?” Leliana asked, leaning with one hand on the table, curiosity reflected in her blue eyes.

The ambassador grinned slyly, “Well, it has recently come to my attention that the Inquisitor’s birthday is in _exactly_ a month’s time.”

Cassandra chuckled, sensing what Josephine was going to suggest, “And you want us to do something for her?”

“Precisely!” Josephine nodded affirmatively, “I think we can all agree that Lady Trevelyan’s spirits have been…taking a beating, as of late. I think it is only proper that we try to do what we can to lift them on her special day.”

Cullen smirked at Josephine, his tone a teasing one, “Like baking her cookies, perhaps?”

The ambassador sighed, “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you, Commander?”

“What?” he laughed, “They were _good_ cookies. I daresay, worthy of the Inquisition, Lady Ambassador.”

Josephine’s cheeks reddened, “But of the Inquisitor? I think not.”

Cassandra crossed her arms atop her breastplate, “So…what do you propose, then?”

“I was actually wondering if any of you knew of any possible avenues we could take,” the ambassador replied, absentmindedly twirling her quill in one hand, “Something that would make a significant impact…a good one, of course.”

Leliana frowned, her expression thoughtful, “I doubt she would be pleased if any Inquisition funds were spent on her, so that rules out any material gifts, unless we procure them without the exchange of coin being involved.”

Cassandra sighed, “Unfortunately, I don’t know enough about her to speculate on what she might want _and_ approve of receiving as a birthday gift.” The Seeker then looked to Cullen just as Leliana and Josephine did the same.

The Commander was distinctly aware of the three sets of eyes on him, and he glanced between them all, “What? I don’t…”

Three sets of eyebrows simultaneously rose in skepticism.

He sighed heavily, “Right…err…hmm.” Looking down at the table, he thought intensely for a few moments before finally replying, “It’s risky…it has a chance of being completely unsuccessful. But if it works…”

Josephine’s curiosity was piqued, “Yes? What is it?”

Cullen’s expression was one of mischievous triumph, “If we can get her brother here, I think that would make her ecstatically happy.”

“Her brother?” Cassandra asked, “The one in the Templar Order?”

“The very one,” Cullen nodded in confirmation, “She’s been so worried about him falling to the influence of red lyrium. What if we find him and bring him to Skyhold? If we could do that…”

“That’s a big if,” Leliana looked concerned, “If we do find him and he has become a Red Templar…”

“Andraste preserve us,” Josephine breathed, “Then we would have to decide whether or not to tell her.”

“We can’t keep it from her,” Cullen answered grimly, “But we don’t tell her on that day, certainly not.”

“Might I suggest a backup plan, then?” Cassandra proposed.

Josephine shifted from one foot to the other, “Let us work on that after we send out correspondence seeking…who, now?”

“Ser Donovan Trevelyan,” Cullen replied, “She never mentioned his rank, but she did say that he was stationed at Markham, last she heard.”

Josephine nodded, “There are nobles in the area who should respond to inquiries about the Circle there. If the Knight-Commander remained at the Circle after the mage rebellion, there is a chance that her brother is still in the city as well.”

“If not,” Cassandra added, “and they left the Chantry at Lambert’s order, then it may be more difficult to find him.”

“Or,” Cullen remarked, “If he parted company with them for any other reason, which is just as plausible as following the Lord Seeker’s demands.”

“I can send out my spies,” Leliana replied, “Find every whisper of his name across Thedas.”

Josephine scribbled on her parchment, “I will send a few letters to the nobles of Markham.”

“You might also try Knight-Commander Brycen in Hasmal,” Cullen suggested, “In the meantime, I will talk to Barris and see what he knows as well.”

Cassandra half-smiled, “Between all our efforts, surely we can find out her brother’s fate – whatever it is.”

Josephine, too, smiled, her expression hopeful, “Let us pray that he is all right, and that we can bring him here. I’m certain it would be the best gift we could possibly give her right now.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week later, Josephine tossed all the letters she’d received onto the war table with a sigh, “Nothing. According to my correspondence in the area, the Templars who were in Markham split up when the rebellion broke out. Some stayed in the city, but Ser Donovan was not one of them.”

Cassandra shook her head, sighing in frustration, “That…complicates things.”

Leliana thumbed through several reports in her gloved hands, “I may be able to help. My scouts have reported that there were a few small groups of Templars who acquired passage from the Free Marches across the Waking Sea a week or two before the calling of the Conclave. I was able to confirm Marcher ship landings in Cumberland, Val Chevin, and Val Royeaux shortly thereafter. Whether or not Donovan was part of one of these groups, I cannot say, but perhaps if we investigate those three cities…”

“You think those ports are where some of Markham’s Templars went?” Josephine replied, brows rising inquisitively.

Cullen frowned, glancing down at his own notes, “That…makes sense, according to what I have. Ser Barris told me that he overheard some gossip while in Val Royeaux, specifically about dwarven contacts needed in Val Chevin to establish regular shipments.”

“Dwarven contacts,” Cassandra repeated, her eyes narrowing as she began piecing things together, “Lyrium suppliers?”

Cullen glanced between them all, “Quite possibly. Why else would Val Chevin specifically need _dwarven_ traders?”

Leliana’s mouth set in a thin line, “It is worth pursuing, I think. Perhaps they holed up there to avoid the war with the mages.”

Cassandra nodded in agreement, “I would send scouts to Val Chevin and ask about Ser Donovan there first.”

Josephine scratched a few notes with her quill, “Perhaps an official invitation from the Inquisition should accompany them? If Ser Donovan is there, then we cannot waste time…we have only three weeks to get him here.”

“Send Ser Barris as well,” Cullen added, “If there are Templars in Val Chevin, then we need to make sure that Corypheus’s minions don’t get a hold of them, and we can offer them safety here at Skyhold.” He clasped the pommel of his sword with both hands, “This mission could turn out to be as much practical as sentimental.”

“I agree,” Leliana replied, exchanging glances with the Commander, “If we can, we need to not only prove that the Inquisitor’s fears aren’t true, but also prevent them from occurring in the future.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Verana awoke to see bright and warm sunlight streaming through her windows. Frowning, she sat up; she usually did not sleep this late, having made a habit of getting up just as dawn broke every morning. Yet, she supposed that it was all right this time, especially after spending nearly three weeks in the Exalted Plains and almost two more traveling there and back.

Oh, and there _was_ that dragon, too.

Stretching languidly, she yawned and flipped back the coverlet, slipping to the floor and shivering a bit as her bare feet padded across cold stone. As she dressed herself in her usual Skyhold attire – a silver mail shirt with supple black leather boots, breeches, vest, and gauntlets – she heard a sharp pecking on a window. Glancing over while she put one boot on, she saw one of Leliana’s ravens hammering away at the glass with a rolled-up bit of parchment in its beak.

Sighing heavily, she hopped a bit to recover her balance as she finished pulling on the one boot, “Oh, all right, all right…give me a minute. Silly bird.”

One boot on and the other foot still bare, Verana strode over to the window and opened it, taking the parchment from the squawking raven’s bill before it took off again in a noisy flap of dark wings. Closing the window again, she unrolled the parchment and instantly recognized Josephine’s elegant script.

_Inquisitor,_

_You have a visitor awaiting you in the main hall. Please come down as soon as you are able._

_Josephine_

Brow furrowing, Verana set the parchment on her desk and went to retrieve her second boot. She wondered who it was. Yet another dignitary? A Chantry official? Grabbing her comb from her wardrobe, she quickly ran it through her raven-black waves before pulling them back into a ponytail, straightening her ensemble one last time, and then heading for the door. She hoped her current outfit would not leave this visitor thinking her…less than sophisticated. Ever since Josephine and Vivienne had started hammering her about keeping up appearances, she had become more self-conscious about the way she presented herself and, in turn, the Inquisition.

_Black and silver…leather and chain…can’t go wrong there…right?_

Nevertheless, she anticipated a disapproving look from Josephine when she emerged into the main hall. But what greeted her there was not the ambassador, nor any guards beside her throne, nor any gathering of nobles or any of the allies she had procured over the past few months.

Instead, she was met with empty, eerie silence.

Verana felt her lips turning down into a frown as she looked about and wandered towards the entrance. No guards, no guests…not even Varric at his usual place at the hearth, nor even Vivienne at the balcony above. All doors into the keep were closed, even the main ones. The curtains hung straight instead of pulled back as usual, and the morning sunlight streamed in long, dusty beams across the stone floor, unbroken by the occasional table or chair that usually sat askew from use.

Brow furrowing, she called out, “Hello? Where is everyone?”

No one answered the question; it merely echoed hollowly around the hall.

She would have been alarmed had she not heard the bustle of usual activity outside in the courtyard. Instead, she wondered what in the world Josephine was up to. Had Sera finally convinced the ambassador to play a prank on her?

“Verana? Is that really you?”

She whirled around. She _knew_ that voice.

From behind one of the side curtains stepped a tall Templar, his gear shining brightly in the light of the windows. He set his winged helm on a table as he cautiously took another step forward, cocking his head at her inquisitively. Verana took in his features quickly, her breath subconsciously held tight in her chest.

_Sparkling hazel eyes, a still slightly baby-faced countenance, a shock of short black hair – the color they had both inherited from their mother…_

“ _Donovan!_ ”

Her cry of elation bounced off of the stone walls of the throne room as she dashed forward at full speed, colliding into him so forcefully that she nearly knocked him off of his feet. He stumbled backwards as she flung her arms around his neck, squeezing him so tightly to her that he was certain his breastplate was preventing him from being crushed in her embrace. Yet, he wrapped his arms just as tightly about her, and she ignored the slight discomfort of the plates of armor where they pressed through her vest and light mail shirt.

“Hey, little sis…my wee little sis…” he murmured quietly as he rocked her from side to side, “I’m here, now, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I promise.”

Verana found herself filled with so many feelings that she could not hold them all back. Her voice was muffled in his shoulder, half-choked as a few tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, “The Maker…must have answered my prayers…I was so worried about you, brother. So worried. I was so afraid that…that…”

“I was afraid for you, too, Verana. When I heard about your survival of the Conclave, when they started calling you the ‘Herald of Andraste,’ I could hardly believe it was _you_ they were talking about…my own little sister. And then when I found out about what happened at Haven, that you were _there_ when the dragon attacked and the mountain came down…Andraste’s mercy, Verana, I thought I’d lost you for good. But then the whispers started about the Inquisition, and…Maker’s breath, I always thought you were born for something great, but _this?_ ” he laughed a bit and shook his head as she pulled away from him, her eyes sparkling with emotion and a grin plastered on her face. He gestured around at the hall, awe evident in his tone, “This is incredible. You’ve done so much…for so many.” He grinned, “If only Roland could see you now, eh? You’ve shown them all.”

She chuckled, “I couldn’t have done it without-”

“ _Happy Birthday, Inquisitor!_ ”

Turning around, she saw more than a dozen heads – advisors, companions, Templars, and even a few soldiers and scouts – poking their heads out from various side doors with brilliant smiles on all their faces. She sighed, shaking her head as she realized that it was they who had brought her brother to Skyhold for her, “ _Them_.” She then caught the gaze of a certain blonde commander, and she smiled, knowing instantly and without a doubt that he _had_ to have been the one who made this possible.

 “Happy Birthday, indeed, Verana. Made it in time this year, eh?” Donovan put a hand on her shoulder, smiling back at the group of cheerful onlookers, “I must say that I probably wouldn’t be where I am without _them_ , either.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Verana and her brother migrated to the bar of the Herald’s Rest to catch up with each other after so many years of being apart, seating themselves beside one another on the stools and ordering a couple of ales from Cabot. Most of the patrons paid them little heed, having seen the Inquisitor frequent the tavern often in order to check up on her companions. As brother and sister were waiting for their orders to be filled, Verana studied the effects that time had had upon her sibling’s face. He was five years her senior – thirty-four years old – and despite his still fairly young-looking countenance, there were new wrinkles and heavier shadows around his generally lively eyes. It had been nearly sixteen years since the last time she had seen Donovan; he had visited her Circle when she was thirteen to check on her, and she had not seen him since…it was an almost surreal feeling, having him here, now. She frowned as she thought she had never thought to ask what sort of effort it had taken to obtain the leave he had received to go to Ostwick, and he had not offered the information at the time. She was certain that if it were possible, he would have visited her more.

After a while of discussing the Circles and the mage-Templar war, Donovan gave her a lopsided smile, “So, do I call you ‘Herald’ or ‘Inquisitor’ or…?”

Verana swatted his shoulder, frowning, “No, silly. We’re family. I’m still Verana. I’m not calling you…wait, what _are_ you now, exactly?”

He chuckled, taking a swig of his ale and then replying, “Knight-Lieutenant, before Lambert’s orders were dispersed. Not sure any of that matters anymore, though.”

She crossed her legs and shifted her weight on her stool, cupping her own tankard in her hands, “If you still want to be a part of the Order, it matters. We’ve tried to salvage it as best we could, you know. The Templars are our allies, fully and freely.”

“I noticed.” He grinned broadly and added, “Knight-Commander Barris and a few of your people were the ones who found my friends and me in Val Chevin. I’m…” he trailed, gazing into his tankard, “Well, I’m thinking about volunteering to serve under his command here in Skyhold, now that I’m here. Seeing what aid I can offer for the cause. It’s the least I can do to help you.”

Verana nodded thoughtfully, “I am sure he would appreciate it. The Templars lost so many at Therinfal. Would your friends join, too?”

“Likely,” Donovan replied, “Pretty sure they’d follow me into one of those damned Fade rifts if I asked. Loyal bunch, all of them, and dedicated to the last.”

Curious, Verana cocked her head at him, “How many are there?”

“About a dozen. Mostly veterans. Corporals. They’re resting in the tower you’ve got, right now, a few getting checked up on by healers. We pushed pretty hard to get here, and not everyone had a mount.”

Her brow furrowed, “And you said my people found you all in Val Chevin?”

“Yeah,” he rubbed at his neck, “We’d actually stopped there to rest after the trip across the Waking Sea. A few of the boys got bad sick on the way, needed a few days to recover. It was then we got word about the Conclave, and we were getting ready to head that way ourselves…to do what we could to restore order once the lads felt better. But then, we heard about the explosion…” he trailed, thinking for a few moments before continuing, “At that point, the resident townsfolk wanted us to stay in hopes we could protect them from whatever threats resulted from the aftermath of the attack on the Divine. We…had no real plan, so there we stayed, trying to keep a low profile in case the rogue Templars tried to recruit us or something. That is, until your men showed up.”

Verana frowned, “I can’t imagine the people of Val Chevin giving you up easily. Not with this environment.”

“They didn’t,” he took another sip of ale, “Your men had to promise to replace us with regular patrols. Whether or not they actually follow up on that, however…”

“If they’re promised, they’ll go.” She replied simply, no doubt at all in her tone. She then took a drink of her own ale before adding, “My soldiers are honorable, and they won’t disobey Cullen.”

Donovan’s hazel eyes met hers, “Wait…did you say ‘Cullen’?”

She slowly set her tankard down, her brow raised, “Yes? Why?”

A look of astonishment was spreading across his face, “You mean… _the_ Cullen? As in, Knight-Commander Cullen Rutherford from Kirkwall?”

Verana nodded in affirmation, “The very same. What in the Maker’s name are you on about, Donovan?”

Donovan laughed nervously in disbelief, “You managed to get _him_ here?”

She shook her head, “Not me, Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. He was already part of this before I became Inquisitor. He’s been commanding the forces of the Inquisition since the beginning, right after the tragedy at the Conclave.”

“Don’t tell me he was in that bunch that surprised you in the keep and I didn’t notice him.”

“He was,” Verana said casually, giving him a wink. She then smiled broadly, gestures accompanying her words for illustration, “Fur collar, blonde hair-”

A look of awe crossed his face for a split second before his brow furrowed and he frowned, “Oh, the son-of-a-bitch who was ogling at you, then?”

“You changed your tune quick.”

“What?” he cocked his head at her, “Don’t tell me you didn’t noti-” he stopped mid-sentence and then squinted his eyes, “Wait a second, are you two…?”

Verana merely smiled enigmatically.

“Andraste’s flaming knickers, Verana!” he exclaimed, a little too loudly for her liking, as half the patrons turned their heads their way. “Sorry,” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder and waiting for the tavern-goers to return their attentions elsewhere before continuing, playfully punching her in the upper arm, “You little charmer, you.”

Verana rolled her eyes, “Well, it’s not like I planned it or anything. ‘Ooh, there’s the former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, I’ll take _him_ , thank you very much.’”

Donovan snorted, “I bet that’s _exactly_ what you did.”

“Did _not_!”

They glared at each other in silence for a few moments until Donovan shook his head, “Sweet Maker, Verana. Well, I feel a bit better about him looking at you like that, then. A bit.”

Verana scoffed, “Don’t tell me, if you didn’t think we were together, you were going to march up to his office and give him what for.”

“I, well,” he stammered, looking away, “No…not exactly…I mean…”

“Uh-huh,” Verana drained her ale and smirked.

“You,” he hesitated, “You don’t think you could possibly introduce us, do you? I mean,” he cleared his throat, “I _do_ owe him a thank you for sending Barris my way…and if we’re potential in-laws…”

“ _Donovan!_ ” she smacked his shoulder harder this time, even though she knew he couldn’t feel a thing for his armor.

“Sorry!” he hastily apologized again, lowering his voice once more.

Sighing, Verana shook her head, “I can take you to meet him, if you really want. His office is in one of the watchtowers. He might be busy, though, just a fair warning.”

With that, Donovan promptly downed the rest of his ale and gestured for his sister to lead the way. She quickly made her way out of the tavern and up the stairs to the battlements, crossing through the nearest watchtower, over the portcullis, and then knocking on Cullen’s office door.

“Come in,” came the muffled reply.

Verana ducked inside, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the low light. Cullen was returning a few tomes to the shelves of his bookcase, but half-turned to see who it was who had entered his office. His eyes quickly flicked from Verana to the silhouette of her brother, and he hurriedly finished putting away the books as the two closed the door behind them.

“Yes? What do you need, Inquisitor?” he asked at length, turning around fully, his hands behind his back.

She jerked her thumb sideways at her brother, “Not me, him. This is Donovan, as you already know, and he’s got a _serious_ case of hero worship. He wants to ask you for your autograph…before grilling you about your personal likes, dislikes, and how you treat me in order to ensure his little sister hasn’t made a grave error in judgment. Oh! And _also_ to put the fear of the Maker in you if you so much as look at me the wrong way.” She smiled devilishly, “Which you already have, I’m afraid.”

Cullen blinked, and Donovan’s mouth fell slightly open as he had trouble comprehending just how to respond to Verana’s introduction. Before either of them could say anything, she grinned broadly, adding, “That’s a big list of things to do, so I’ll just leave you two to it, then. I’ve got work of my own to check up on.” Spinning on her heel, she was gone in an instant, the side door of his office opening and closing again in a flash of midday sunlight.

Donovan stared after her and then shook his head, hooking his thumbs in his belt and sighing, “I, ah…sorry about that, Commander. The reason I’m here is not nearly as…exaggerated, as she made it sound.”

Cullen chuckled, seating himself at his desk, “I’m certain she was teasing us both.” He gestured for Donovan to pull up a chair of his own, adding, “What is it you wish to discuss?”

Donovan slowly sat and gave Cullen a lopsided smile, “Well, I certainly _don’t_ want to ask you for your autograph, but I must say it is an honor to meet you, Commander. The Inquisition is lucky to have you managing its military forces.”

“I…”  Cullen regarded Donovan with a curious glance, rubbing the back of his neck absentmindedly, “Thank you. I didn’t know I was that…famous?”

Donovan’s smile turned into a grin, “Every Templar in the Free Marches worth their salt knows your name and what you did back in Kirkwall. And if they had any brains in their skulls, they’d feel the same way I do about it.”

Cullen’s brow rose, “And that is…?”

Donovan’s lips pressed together, “You did the right thing. Standing up to Meredith the way you did, and then orchestrating the recovery in the aftermath. You did what was right instead of what was popular, no matter the risk to your own person. If only more of us thought that way,” he glanced away, gaze fixated on the floor, “perhaps our Order wouldn’t have fallen quite so far.”

Cullen sighed, leaning back in his chair, his hands clasped atop his breastplate. His eyes were distant as he looked towards the bookshelf, not actually seeing the tomes there, “It took me too long to realize that the Order was not what I thought it was…what I wanted it to be. Perhaps it was that way at one time, but it is so no longer.” He returned his gaze to Donovan, “You are part of only a relative handful left who remember their duty. Now that you are here, you have a chance to help rebuild.”

Donovan nodded, his expression solemn, “I will.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Cullen’s mouth, “Verana speaks highly of you. It is obvious she admires you greatly. She has…great faith in you. You are lucky to have such a relationship; so many families are torn apart by the rivalries between Templars and mages. But, it seems such a situation only pushed you two closer together, yes?”

Donovan met Cullen’s gaze and nodded, “Yes, it did. It’s…a long story, part of which I assume Verana has already told you. Suffice it to say, our family is rather traditional and devoted to the Chantry. I’m the second son, and as such, I was promised to the Chantry to serve as a Templar…which effectively removed me from succession. My younger sisters were slated to be betrothed to sons of rather high-ranking families when their magical talents were discovered – or, as our father put it, their ‘ill-timed curses.’ So, naturally, off they went to the Circles, Verana not that long after our sister Dawn. My removal from the line of succession was seen as a noble sacrifice, but they?” he shook his head, “They were outright disinherited. Trevelyans in name only. Our father was pitiless, our mother silently devout. Roland, our older brother, the chosen heir, was just like Father. He already disliked his younger sisters, but when Dawn and Verana were discovered to be mages, he no longer had to hide his vitriol. It was perfectly acceptable to treat them like dirt, and so he did. From what I heard through Mother’s letters,” Donovan paused, sifting through his memories, “There were harsh words said to both them before they were sent off.

“I was never that close to Dawn, but Verana…I always felt a need to protect her, even before I was old enough to send off to the Chantry. She was always so small, so vulnerable, and Father and Roland so cold and detached towards all the sisters. Jocelyn and Dawn got along better with each other than with the rest of us, and they never paid Verana much heed, either. So,” he sighed, “I…designated myself Verana’s guardian, because she had no one else. That’s not exactly how I thought of it at the time, when she was but three and I was eight. But I felt the need to protect her, because no one else seemed to want to. Even Mother was passive about her.”

He sighed heavily, “I was in the midst of training when I got word from Mother that Verana’s abilities had manifested not long after Dawn’s,” he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, “I begged and begged until my trainer finally gave me leave for a day to go home and see her before she was dragged off to the Circle. Freshly-turned thirteen years old, I rode alone from Markham. Nearly pushed the pony I had borrowed to its death to get to her in time. I tried to tell her that it was for the best, that she’d be protected while she explored her talents and honed her skills.”

Donovan paused and shook his head, “She was afraid, and I felt powerless. I knew there was no way I could be stationed in the same Circle that she would be in, and it angered me. But I tried not to let that show, for her sake. And that’s when I promised her,” he said quietly, “I promised her that I would always love her, and that if she ever needed me, I would be there for her, no matter what – because I was her big brother. Someone had to say it, because she needed it. And I was the only one who wanted to do it. Who meant it.”

Cullen was silent as he absorbed what Donovan was telling him. He could feel a defensive fury boiling in his veins, hating the way Verana had been treated. He also began to understand why Verana felt the way she did about Donovan. He truly cared for her as an elder brother should. It made Cullen think of his own siblings and how they might think about him in return…

“I only saw her once after that,” Donovan finally continued, “And it took me forever to get leave to go back to Ostwick. It took me years of repeated applications, persuasion, and performing duties above and beyond what was expected in order to be granted that privilege. When I finally did, I was eighteen. She had turned thirteen a month prior…I remember, because I was frustrated that I missed her birthday. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought the Knight-Commander had delayed letting me know on purpose.” He chuckled, shook his head, then added, “I told her she was always in my thoughts, and that I would pray for her.” He looked down between his feet, “I wouldn’t see her again for nearly sixteen years.”

He glanced up at Cullen again, and the Commander slowly nodded, replying, “It seems those interactions – no matter how few – endeared you to her, though. She remembers you fondly. The very thoughts of you possibly being corrupted by red lyrium…it drove her to terrible nightmares. That’s partially why we wanted to find you. Her fears about you were endangering her.”

“In that case, I’m even gladder that you did, now,” Donovan nodded, “I might never have approached Skyhold on my own.” He sighed and leaned back, “This place…this Inquisition. I’m so proud of her.” He chuckled, smiling to himself, “‘The Herald of Andraste.’ I hope that’s eating Father and Roland alive right now.”

“From what you say,” Cullen smirked, “I’m sure it would make Verana quite pleased to know if it is. And she’s already happier than I have seen her in some time.”

Donovan smirked back, “I daresay that’s partially _your_ doing, Commander. She implied that you two are…?”

Cullen felt his cheeks reddening, “Well, yes…”

The Templar nodded, thinking for a moment before rising and approaching Cullen’s desk, “I feel I should say that I would trust no other man with my sister than one of your caliber, Commander. But I must ask you,” Donovan’s tone went serious, as did his expression, “Will you make that same promise I made, years ago? Will you promise me that you will love her, protect her, and be there for her, when no one else will?”

Cullen slowly rose from his seat, meeting Donovan’s eyes. Little did the Templar know that the commander had already made such a promise to himself. “Of course, Ser Donovan. You have my word.”

Donovan smiled widely, “Good. Then you have my blessings, Commander.”

With that, the Templar held out his hand to Cullen, and the two men clasped forearms firmly, their vambraces clacking together and audibly sealing their accord.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Verana was passing through Solas’s increasingly-colorful tower room when the elf paused his painting to address her. He gave her an enigmatic smile and gestured upwards, “Ah, Inquisitor…Leliana asked me to point you her way whenever you came through. If I remember correctly, believe she has something for you.”

Raising her brows, the Inquisitor wondered what important information the Spymaster wished to share. They’d been expecting some correspondence soon regarding Calpernia and the Venatori; perhaps that was it? Not wishing to keep Leliana waiting any longer, Verana inclined her head to the elf, “Thank you, Solas.” Then, she quickly strode towards the stairs and climbed them two at a time, brushing past a messenger with a brief apology on her way up to the rookery.

When at last she spied Leliana perched at her usual spot – a table near the windows – she hailed her with a raised hand, “Sister Nightingale…you wanted to see me?”

As Verana approached the table, Leliana smiled, “I did, Inquisitor. There is something very important I wish to discuss…” standing and moving over to a pile of crates near the center railing of the tower, she bent over and rummaged around a bit, “Just one moment…”

Brow furrowing, Verana began to wonder what it was the spymaster was looking for when Leliana suddenly straightened herself once more, holding her arms out towards the Inquisitor. There, in the Nightingale’s gloved hands, was a tiny fuzzball of a kitten – void-black fur all over, pale blue eyes, and a purple ribbon tied around its neck in an oversized bow.

“Happy Birthday, Inquisitor!” the Spymaster said gleefully, a rare smile on her face as she proffered the tiny animal as a gift.

“ _Mew!_ ” the kitten squeaked.

Verana’s blue-violet eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open slightly for a moment until she could formulate a response, “Oh, Leliana! I’ve always wanted a pet, but we could never have them at the Circle!” She then reached for the kitten and carefully took the furry thing in hand, holding it next to her chest and kissing the top of its tiny head.

“One of my scouts found her in Val Royeaux,” Leliana explained, “She was wandering around the market, taking scraps wherever she could find them – a scrawny thing. She was brought back here and nursed to proper health, and I thought you might like to keep her. Sometimes, small friends like her can help you get through the rough times.”

Verana stroked the kitten’s luxuriously soft fur and grinned widely, “I’d love to keep her, Leliana. Thank you so very much! Oh, she’s so gorgeous and sweet!”

“ _Mew!_ ” the kitten squeaked again.

Leliana chuckled, “You’ll have to think of a name, I’m afraid. I decided to leave that to you.”

“I’m terrible with names, but I’ll try to think of something suitable.”

“Just don’t name her anything that has to do with meowing, pouncing, or scratching,” Varric’s voice came from behind her, “and you should be good.”

Verana turned around, still petting the kitten and grinning all the while, “Varric! Look at this wonderful little ink spot. Isn’t she positively delightful?”

Varric gave her a sly smile, “Not certain that ‘delightful’ and ‘cats’ go together in my book, but she certainly _is_ a charmer, I’ll give her that. I daresay, she suits you, Inquisitor.”

“Those were my thoughts as well,” Leliana remarked.

“Say,” the dwarf added, “I was talking with the others, and most of us have set aside time later for a game of Wicked Grace at the Herald’s Rest. Can I count on you being there, too, Inquisitor?”

Verana hesitated, “Well, I…” she trailed and glanced to Leliana, but the spymaster merely inclined her head silently. The Inquisitor thought a moment, and then sighed, “All right. I suppose since it’s my birthday, I have a right to some leisure time tonight, yes? I’ll be there.”

“Excellent!” Varric rubbed his hands together, smiling wryly, “It certainly wouldn’t be the same without you. We’ll see you then.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Am I late?”

Verana poked her head into the Herald’s Rest late that evening to see the tavern mainly emptied, save for a few tables shoved together in the middle of the room, adjacent to the hearth. There sat several of her companions, including a few faces she was rather surprised to see: Blackwall, Cassandra, Cole, Varric, and Iron Bull, as well as Cullen and Josephine. They all simultaneously turned their heads at her entry and waved at her to join them. Varric peered through the gap between Cole and Josephine and grinned, “We almost started without you!”

“Oh, hush, we did _not_!” Josephine scolded him, reaching across to swat his hand.

“You’re such a spoilsport, Ruffles,” Varric chided.

“Come on and have a seat, Inquisitor,” Blackwall pointed at the vacant chair next to Cassandra.

Smiling, Verana made her way over and sat as bade, nodding to everyone in turn and letting her eyes linger a bit longer in Cullen’s direction.  Her grin widening, she remarked teasingly, “I’m honestly surprised to see some of you here.”

“I think some of _them_ are surprised they’re here, too,” Varric jerked his thumb at Cullen, who sat to the dwarf’s left, across from Josephine.

Cullen snorted defensively, “Only because there are more important things that need to be done.”

“Oh come on, Curly,” Varric ribbed, “It’s the Inquisitor’s birthday…what more permission do you need to take a bit of time off? We’re spending some quality time together on a special day. That’s pretty important, too, you know.”

The dwarf winked at the Inquisitor, and Verana could feel her cheeks reddening. She appreciated Varric’s gesture, understanding his purpose in getting them all together, knowing that this was, essentially, his gift to her. She was also certain that Cullen’s reflexive balking was more to deflect attentions from the two of them than to insult her in any way, though Varric’s remarks seemed to alert the commander to just how callous his words might have sounded, especially considering the occasion. He sighed heavily, and the look he cast her way was one of guilty apology, just in case she took his response to heart.

“I’m having trouble remembering anything about this game,” Cassandra scowled.

“It’s been a while since I last played,” Verana nodded in understanding, “I’m certainly not expecting to win anything.”

Varric chuckled, “An Antivan’s at the table, we’re _all_ going to lose.”

“Says you,” Cullen scoffed.

At that moment, Cabot brought a tray of frothing tankards to the tables, and Blackwall laughed heartily, his tone a knowing one, “Oh, _this_ is going to make things harder.”

“Or easier,” Iron Bull remarked, taking a tankard for himself.

“Hot and dry, liquid merriness,” Cole murmured absently, “Cold satisfaction that warms the bones and drives away the night…numbs the pain, numbs the thoughts, forget all the bad…”

“All right, kid,” Varric took his own tankard and looked pointedly at the spirit, “Let’s not make the _ale_ creepy on top of everything else.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few hours – and tankards, stories, and jokes – later, Josephine had won two games of Wicked Grace, a significant pile of coins sitting by her cards as a testament to her victories.

“I can’t believe this,” Blackwall threw his hands in the air as Josephine gathered the cards together. The ambassador grinned widely but said nothing, exchanging glances with Varric.

The dwarf laughed, “I told you. When an Antivan’s at the table, you lose.”

“When Josephine’s at the table, apparently you lose _twice_ ,” Iron Bull snorted with a shake of his horned head.

“Well,” Cullen leaned forward, “I’m afraid that cannot stand. I challenge you to another game, Ambassador…I’ve been watching you, and I’ve learned your tells.”

Josephine raised a brow as she shuffled the deck, “Oh, really, Commander?”

“Yes,” he clasped his hands together and gave her a sly smirk, “Really.”

“Someone’s begging to go broke,” Varric chuckled, draining his third tankard of ale.

“I already am,” Cullen retorted, “So I haven’t any more to lose…but I have everything to gain.”

“Well, then,” Josephine smiled enigmatically, “If I am to take this challenge, I must pose a challenge of my own, Commander.”

“Name it.”

“If you win, you, of course, take all this,” she gestured to the pile of coins on the table, “If, however, you lose…” she paused for effect.

“I don’t think this is going to be good,” Cassandra remarked, a half-smile tugging at her lips as she tried to anticipate the ambassador’s words.

Josephine’s smile widened, “Then you must immediately remove your armor and clothing before all of us present.”

Cullen’s expression was unreadable.

“ _All_ of it,” she emphasized.

Verana leaned back in her chair, “Oh, _this_ I have to see.”

Sighing, Varric glanced sideways at the commander, “You know, Curly, I think she’s just given you a whole lot to lose. But, you asked for it.”

Cullen smirked again, “Challenge accepted, Lady Ambassador, and an easy thing to consent to, considering I don’t plan on losing, this time.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh, _Maker_ …”

The awe-filled phrase was uttered simultaneously by Verana, Cullen, and Cassandra an hour later as they stared at Josephine’s final hand spread out on the table before her. Cullen gaped, slightly slack-jawed with shock, which was quickly replaced by a growing horror as he saw Josephine’s knowing grin.

“I can’t watch,” Cassandra put her head down on her arms.

“All right, Commander,” Iron Bull teased, “A deal’s a deal…”

“Andraste help me,” Cullen turned his helpless gaze to Verana, as if silently pleading for clemency.

The Inquisitor merely smiled wickedly, “Don’t look at me.”

His face a marvelous shade of pink, which would have surely glowed in the dark if he was outside, Cullen sighed and stood, unbuckling his sword belt. Immediately, almost all those present gave a bawdy roar of approval, Blackwall letting out a sharp whistle overtop it.

“I can’t watch, I just can’t,” Cassandra’s voice was muffled as she kept her head down.

“I…” Verana trailed, feeling her own cheeks begin to burn. “I can’t either!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands firmly over her eyes and leaning with her elbows on the table.

“Well,” Josephine remarked, “ _I’m_ certainly going to enjoy the show.”

“But, Verana, I thought-” Cole began, peering around Josephine and studying the Inquisitor with a befuddled expression on his face.

It was then that Varric cut him off with a sharp warning, “Not a word, kid!”

Verana could feel her ears turning red, now, and she hoped her now loose hair was hiding them behind curtains of black waves. She kept her hands firmly clamped over her eyes as she heard the rustling of cloth, the jangle of buckles. She distinctly heard his pants belt come off, then a pause before, likely, the pants themselves. A wave of pity then crashed over her as she felt embarrassed for his sake, and she almost regretted not doing something to call off the deal.

“All right, you two, it’s fine,” Varric said to alert Cassandra and Verana. The latter peeked through her fingers and then slowly let down her hands as Cassandra lifted her head. There Cullen sat across the table, hidden from the waist down, and yet completely naked. His jaw was set, and his amber eyes blazed furiously as he glared at Varric with a warning growl, “Not a word, dwarf.”

Cole looked positively dumbfounded, “It comes off…I didn’t know it came off…”

Josephine, who was grinning from ear to ear, looked sideways at Verana and, with a note of cheerfulness in her tone, said simply, “Happy Birthday, Inquisitor.” With that, she winked, pushed the pile of coins in front of Verana, and then stood, brushing herself off and giving a slight bow to the others, “Goodnight, everyone!”

Blackwall let out a roar of laughter as Josephine slipped out of the tavern in a swish of blue and gold, “Maker’s balls, did she just do what I think she did?”

Iron Bull drained his tankard and slammed it on the table, “The she-devil got Cullen to strip for the Inquisitor and then gave her all our money is what she did!”

Verana was stunned to silence for several moments before stammering, “I-I…”

Varric laughed, “Don’t worry, Inquisitor…Josie won fair and square and she has a right to give her winnings away if she wants. We won’t fight you for them.”

A chorus of agreeing grunts of affirmation followed, punctuated by Cassandra slowly standing and clearing her throat loudly, “Well…if we are finished here, I think we should disperse so the Commander can recover his dignity in peace.”

“Aye,” Blackwall nodded, pushing back his chair and stretching languidly, “I think it’s long past time I hit the hay.”

Iron Bull shook his head as the companions began to meander towards the tavern entrance, some a bit more wobbly than others, “Someone should’ve run with the armor as soon as he got it off.”

Cullen glared, and the qunari crossed his arms, “Oh, come on, you have to admit it would’ve been a lot better.”

Varric chuckled, “I think there’s some recruits who don’t need to witness their commander streaking to his watchtower.”

Cassandra snorted halfway out of the door, “Honestly, I think he’d be running so fast they wouldn’t see a thing.”

“If he took the stairs, he wouldn’t have far to go at all.”

“ _HE CAN HEAR YOU!_ ” Cullen bellowed in irritation.

There was a roaring chorus of laughter before the door finally slammed shut behind them, leaving Cullen and Verana alone in the tavern. The silence that pervaded the empty room was almost deafening, and Verana found she was unable to look at Cullen for a long while; she stared at the shining pile of silvers and coppers, not really wanting to take it.

At last, Cullen broke the silence with a quiet, “Well…seems you made out like a bandit tonight.”

She closed her eyes, “I’m sorry…I should have-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shook his head, “I was the one who accepted those ridiculous terms. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He swallowed, “Actually, I wasn’t thinking at all, that much is obvious.”

She exchanged sheepish grins with him, and she was suddenly quite aware that she was alone in the same room as the quite naked commander, trying desperately to prevent her eyes from wandering any farther down than his collarbones…

In an attempt to diffuse the awkwardness, she teased, “If I knew you losing in a game of Wicked Grace could get you out of your clothes so easily, I might have suggested the idea a lot sooner, Commander.”

His brow rose, and his eyes flickered with mischief, “Perhaps I should impose such a penalty on you whenever you lose a chess match.”

Her blue-violet gaze went wide. “I’ll…err,” she abruptly turned around in her chair, her back to him, “just not look and give you a chance to dress, shall I?”

“That would be appreciated.”

Within a few moments, he had pulled on his pants, shirt, and boots, “All right, you can turn around now.”

Sighing, he was in the process of gathering up the rest of his attire as if to put it all on again when she held up her hand, “Wait…if you’re not going to need it all, just let me help you carry the rest back.”

She quickly raked the coin on the table into her purse, tied the significantly heavier bag back to her belt, and stood, making her way to where the pile of clothing lay. She then gathered the smaller and lighter bits into her hands and smiled as she straightened herself, “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Well,” he rubbed the back of his neck as he tucked the larger pieces under one arm, his scabbard in hand, “It does make things easier, yes.”

“What?” she teased again, “Still feel naked?”

He chuckled, “A bit. Wearing armor at all times except sleep is a bit of a difficult habit to break.”

She smiled sideways at him, “You broke it at the Winter Palace.”

“I felt naked there, too.”

“But you looked amazing,” she said softly.

“So did you,” he smiled back at her, and she felt her cheeks reddening again.

She cleared her throat and began climbing the stairs of the tavern, making her way towards the third-floor door that led to the battlements and offered a shorter way to Cullen’s office. They were lucky to avoid the night watch as they quickly moved through the tower that served as a makeshift storeroom and crossed the portcullis ramparts and into Cullen’s quarters. There, Verana placed the bundle of clothing on a chair in the corner and set about lighting extinguished candles with a flick of her fingers. Once a sufficient amount of lighting drove away the shadows and cast a warm glow about the room, Cullen set down his own pile of armor and sighed, gesturing at the pile of papers that had accumulated on his desk in his absence, “Well…it looks like I have some catching up to do.”

Verana raised her eyebrows at the slightly uneven stack of parchment and glanced down, “I guess you regret answering Varric’s summons now?”

He noticed her downcast expression, and he quickly answered, “No, I don’t regret spending time with you. At all. I just…” he trailed, “there’s so much to do and so little time to do it.”

“I know,” she sighed, putting her hands on her hips, “Things like birthdays and card games seem silly when there are lives at stake.”

Cullen stood there for a few moments before sidling next to her and putting his arm around her shoulders, “We can’t be all business all the time, though, I know. We’d go mad. Little things like that keep you going.” He then turned and meandered towards his desk, looking back with a smirk, “And it’s time to keep going.”

Her brow furrowed, “You can’t be serious…you’re going to go through all that this late?”

“Verana, I’m too nerve-wracked to sleep right now, and I have things to catch up on, so why shouldn’t I?”

She crossed her arms, “Even if you can’t sleep, you still need rest.” When he sat down at the desk in a rather defiant manner, she lifted her chin, “If you’re working, I’m staying up with you.”

“Inquisitor, we’ve talked about this. You of all people can’t neglect your own sleep. It hurts me far less than it hurts you.”

She snorted and cocked her hip, “In the immortal words of Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast…‘ _bullshit’_.”

Amber eyes met violet, and both gazes reflected equal amounts of willpower, neither yielding any ground to the other. Finally, though, Cullen’s lips tugged into a smirk, and he gestured beside him, “Pull up a seat, then. It’s going to be a long night.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, Verana leaned her head gently against Cullen’s shoulder as he read perhaps the thirtieth scout report. His brow furrowed as he took in the information, and he scribbled a few more notes on the slowly-filling parchment by his hand before tossing the memo aside to be burned along with the others he’d just read.

“So, your brother is settling in all right?”

The question was a sudden, but casual one. They had sat in relative silence up until that point, other than the scratching of his quill and the rustling of parchment, merely taking simple enjoyment in each other’s close proximity.

Verana sighed, “I suppose, yes. Last he told me, he’s been allowed to take residence in the tower along with the other Templars who accompanied him here. Barris passed on the information before the game earlier that Donovan already turned in for the night. According to him, they’re all exhausted, and it will take a while for them to regain their strength.”

“I imagine so,” Cullen nodded solemnly as he reached for another message, “Though he seems a resilient sort.” He paused and looked askance at her with a slight smile, “Like someone else I know.”

She chuckled, “Trevelyans are nothing if not…persistent.”

“You’re lucky to have such a devoted brother,” Cullen added, “That he did not abandon you because of your abilities.”

Nodding in agreement, she replied, “Yes. Donovan was there for me more than any of my other siblings. More than my own parents, even. Some of my earliest memories are of him…playing with me when no one else would. Sitting beside me in the floor of our father’s study. I recall that he alone treated me like a sibling should, even though we lived in the same household for so few years, and what I remember about him is so little. I remember his visit to Ostwick more…how overjoyed I was to see him then. I feel the same way, now…only more so knowing that he never has to leave, and that he’s safe here.”

After a few moments, she slid her arms around his shoulders and squeezed, “I know you were instrumental in bringing him here, and I…I can’t thank you enough, Cullen. It means the world to me to know he is all right and to have him with us. I cannot describe the relief I feel…”

He leaned his head into hers, “It was a gamble, but, thank the Maker, it turned out all right. I could think of no better gift for you. I wanted to give you some peace of mind, at last…something that would ease your fears, and maybe stop those terrible nightmares of yours for good.”

Stroking his shoulder gently, she murmured, “If only I could do the same for you.”

He set down his quill and parchment and leaned back in his chair, his head falling backwards as he closed his eyes and winced. “They’re becoming less frequent, I think. I don’t know, though. There was a time when I thought the nightmares stopped years ago, but then they started up again. Just like they did recently.”

“Mages, demons…either would logically bring those memories back unbidden,” Verana reasoned, “And because of that, I suppose it’s impossible for me to make it better…”

“Verana, you _do_ make it better,” he replied, taking her hand in his, but otherwise not moving.

Though her heart was warmed just as her hand was, she looked up at him with an inquisitive gaze, “How?”

A smile slowly spread across his upturned face, his eyes still closed, “Memories of you. Your eyes…your voice…they are weapons against these Fade terrors, and so long as I arm myself with them,” he chuckled lightly, his thumb rubbing across hers, “I can beat them back.”

“Oh, Cullen,” She buried her face in his arm, “You adorable, romantic…”

He snorted, “‘ _Adorable’_?”

“Yes, _adorable_ ,” she insisted, grinning at him, “You’re especially adorable when you blush.”

“I…blush?” he asked, straightening, his brow raised.

She laughed out loud, “Yes, silly, you do! You go as red as your coat all the way to your ears and it’s _adorable_! You did it earlier, at the game…”

“Oh, Maker,” he shook his head, “I really don’t need to know this…I have a hard enough time trying not to embarrass myself in front of you. This is not going to make it any easier on me.”

“Oh, _love_ ,” she replied, rising from her chair and then sitting sideways in his lap, leaning against his torso and wrapping her arms around his neck, tucking his head under her chin, “I’m not making fun of you. I truly _adore_ you…is it a quality to be ashamed of, to be so easily adored?”

“I suppose not,” he said quietly, his arms encircling her waist to keep her from slipping, “Though it is certainly not one I would have ever thought of myself possessing…”

She pushed back from him slightly, holding his face in both hands, “I notice you didn’t balk at ‘romantic,’ though.”

His honey-gold eyes then traveled the length of her face, and she could almost feel them settle on her lips.  “I won’t debate that one,” his reply was a husky murmur.

Her gaze was drawn to his own wryly smiling lips, tracing their outline and that of the familiar scar. Bending closer, she smoothed his hair with her hands, cradling the back of his head as she pressed her mouth to his in a tender kiss. They had not had either time or privacy enough to share intimate expressions of their love very often, and thus Verana relished each such tender moment, allowing herself the luxury of forgetting the wider world whilst in his embrace.

Their prior kisses had all been impassioned, yet also tentatively sweet. It had taken them a while to shed the bashfulness of inexperience that accompanied their interactions. Now, though, Verana began to more fully communicate her love to him, and he received it openly…even eagerly. Her hands traveled from the back of his head down his neck, tracing the muscles she had tried to ignore back at the tavern. As they reached his shoulders, however, under the collar of his shirt, she could feel distinct knots of tension in them – stiff, and pulled tighter than a crossbow’s string. Breaking the kiss, she frowned at him, “Maker’s mercy, Cullen, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’ve spent so much time with the trebuchets, you’re becoming one.”

“Hmm,” he laughed softly, “Sometimes I feel like I could be used as one.”

She chuckled, kissing his forehead and searching the muscles between his shoulders and neck with her fingertips, finding the tightest areas and beginning to massage them gently, but firmly, with the intent of working the tension out of them. Her brow furrowed as she took her task quite seriously, determined to provide some sort of relief for him.

He rested his head against her chest, just below her collarbones, and she could feel his grip on her relaxing as she slowly massaged his neck and shoulders, finding knots and forcing them to loosen. “No wonder you rub your neck so much,” she remarked, mostly to herself.

She felt him sigh heavily, his breath warm even through her shirt, “Is this Point-Out-Cullen’s-Habits Day?”

She snorted, working the muscles a little more firmly, “No, sweetheart. This is Let-Cullen-Know-Someone-Loves-Him-and-Wants-to-Make-Him-Feel-Better Day.”

He grunted and then hissed audibly as she hit a particularly tight area and ruthlessly attacked it with methodical precision. After a moment, he asked, “Since when did your birthday become all about me?”

She paused, and then replied simply, “When I decided that enough had been done for me.”

Cullen was about to respond when a small, high-pitched sound reached their ears.

“ _Mew!_ ”

Verana pushed back from him, and both of them exchanged looks of puzzlement.

“ _Mew!_ ” the sound came again.

Looking down, Verana saw her little black kitten sitting right next to Cullen’s leg, looking up at them with bright blue eyes and opening its mouth wide for another, more insistent “ _Mew!_ ”

“What in Andraste’s name!” Verana exclaimed, bending forward to take the kitten in her arms, “I thought I left you in my quarters! How did you get here?”

Cullen chuckled, “So, I see Leliana gave you her present.”

“Yes,” she grinned, holding the inky furball close and kissing the top of its head. “I still need to think of a name, and I’m terrible with names.”

He peered at the tiny kitten for a moment, and then replied, “How about…Hope?”

She cocked her head, curious as to his reasoning. Upon seeing her inquisitive expression, he added with a smirk, “Because…you can’t take her with you when you leave Skyhold, of course, so that’s what you’ll be leaving behind with me.”

Verana thought her heart melted right then and there, ending up somewhere in the pit of her stomach. She glanced at the kitten, and then back at Cullen, a smile spreading across her face as she felt her cheeks flushing what must have been a brilliant shade of red.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, “Hope, it is.”

“ _Mew!_ ” the kitten seemed to affirm their choice.

She chuckled, petting the top of the kitten’s head and relaxing into Cullen’s arms as he pulled her tighter to him atop his lap. Curling into his chest and resting her head on his shoulder, Verana sighed happily, “This whole day…has been the most perfect gift…”

He gave a soft hum, turning to kiss her forehead, “I’m glad, love.”

Where she was held between them, curled against both their chests, Hope purred contentedly.


End file.
